We have several beautiful descriptions of calm and quiet scenery. What follows, contrasts admirably with the lines we have just quoted.
| "I look upon the stars sometimes—I love To watch their twinkling in the azure ground Of Heaven's o'er-arching canopy, where move Ten thousand worlds—which, starting with a bound— Plough with fiery track, the unseen waves Of fathomless immensity; to see, Age after age, that sky hung o'er the graves Of buried nations, as a tapestry— A funeral canopy when dyed with gloom; That sky, which, robed in majesty, looked bright Upon Columbus, when he sought the tomb Of all his hopes, or strove to snatch from night, And claim the birthright of a world. 'Tis when I view the stars, bright handmaids of the moon— Who walks among them as a virgin queen— That, with those stars to riot, seem a boon From Heaven; I love to see that moon's pure beams— Like lightning shot upon the watery waste, Which like a mine of living diamonds gleams— Each sparkling but an instant—as in haste To hide its liquid lustre in the wave— A jeweled bathing place—a starlit home— Fit—ay, beautifully fit to lave The light of worlds in upper air which roam." |
There is much of that highly romantic and poetical imagery in this, which must please every reader of taste. A stanza of similar style is in the lines to page 32.
| "And when the stars were breathing out Their holy light to earth, And diamonding the glad blue sky For the young moon's queenly birth, I've gazed upon some lovely one, And thought that it might be A glorious home in the afterworld, In which to live with thee." |
And this at page 82.
| "The air is like a tideless sea Of pure and silvery light, And the waters glance transparently, Illumed by the queen of night. The crested waves as they dash on high, And dissolve in pearly beads, Appear as a carpet spread gaudily, Where the giant sea-god treads." |
There is much, too, in the following lines, which comes over the senses "like the sweet south."
| "Evening is stealing with her nectared breath, Slowly and calmly down to kiss each flower That pouteth in rich beauty from beneath Its emerald colored guardians—the bright leaves— ('Tis strange what solace brings that magic hour To every heart that hopes, or loves, or grieves— It is the fitting time for fervent prayer, Which rises holily on kindred air— For then the air is holy—'tis the time For love—the only time to gaze and die Beneath the lustre of a diamond eye; Yet strange to tell, it is the hour for crime!) In golden majesty the glorious sun, With light too pure for eye to gaze upon, Is sinking slowly in the gorgeous west— A monarch going proudly to his rest.— He's gone, and mellow twilight creeps along As gently as the cadence of a song,— Twilight, to whom each poet in his day, Hath breathed melodious and impassioned lay, While o'er his soul thy witchery was stealing, As sweetly as the whispered tones of feeling. Evening—'tis then the o'er fraught heart doth pour Its wealth of pious incense at the shrine Of deity—the spirit then may soar Into those regions where the angels twine Wreaths for the glorious of our earthly race;— 'Tis then that we can see, and feel, and trace His glory in the realms of starry space!" |
We were pleased with the lines to ——, commencing thus:
| "Memory! Memory!—'tis like the talisman We read of in the page of Eastern story, That magi used the inmost soul to scan Of friends or foes; or oft mayhap to call From his bright crystal, gold, or diamond hall, Some brother in his supernatural glory— The talisman of feeling, that doth bring Back on the heart the deeds of other days, With all their dark or glorious coloring— The wizard of the soul, whose wand can raise The disembodied spirits of the dead Palpable as it were to touch;—impress The face of such as long ago have fled Into their state of holy blessedness, Upon the mind." |